the entrance of the building. The other he fastened to at
post by the road, so that no one passing could deny the
presence he approached.
Each of these signs bore on a white background in striking black strokes:
“Headquarters, 305th F. A. N. A."
We stood about staring.
"That's us—the 305th Field Artillery. Are we going to make it big and successful enough?"
There were at least no visible shirkers, and we had acquired already a belligerent disposition to stand fast for the rights of the regiment. That was as it should have been, since we were destined to be among the first of the combat organizations. There was, moreover, need of such a spirit.
Take J20, for example. Once you had got a bit of floor space there the whole world conspired to tear it from you, or, as more convenient, you from it. Regimental Headquarters had established itself modestly in a corner of the lower dormitory. Officers of high rank sought sleeping space, complaining that we were in their way. Brigade headquarters sent messengers to measure us broad and long. Commanding officers and adjutants of various organizations, quartered in the same building cast in our direction threatening glances. Low-browed hirelings of the Thompson-Starret Company came, demanding the return of panels of Upson board and pieces of deformed lumber with which we had endeavored to barricade ourselves against an eager and conscienceless world. In spite of everything Regimental Headquarters clung to its corner until, in late October, it moved to its own building in the 305th area. Those few weeks in J20, moreover, witnessed our adolescence. When we tramped across the hill we were, indeed, a regiment.
September 6 was a day that must be recorded notice-
